


Just Breathe (Copy That, Copycat)

by MermaidMayonnaise



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: A Forage Into Angst, Angst, Ch 1: Intro, Ch 2: Story, Ch 3: Art, Electrocution, I look at these tags and I wince, I squip myself, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is all finished!, Torture, spot the subtle self insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-12-30 04:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18308438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidMayonnaise/pseuds/MermaidMayonnaise
Summary: (I can't remember who I am.) The days blurred together in an endless amalgamation of faded colors. (Everything's a blur, take me over.)Jeremy's reflection was unrecognizable from the nerd that he had been only a few months previous. (I'll become what you like: this is what you've wanted, right?)He crushed the overwhelming sense of loss that overtook him. (Sacrifice all I know... I will teach myself to let go.)





	1. hello, please

**Author's Note:**

> I strongly suggest putting ["Copycat"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGjA23kXsCU) on loop in the background as you read it, that way you get the full immersive experience.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intro of sorts. 3.31.19

It was a system of total control. Jeremy woke up in the morning and he was told exactly what to do, what clothes to dress himself in, what to feed himself.  
Jeremy used to struggle. He used to disobey, clench his fists and dig his nails into his hands. But when the Squip managed to regain control, Jeremy still felt a rush of victory when he felt the warm dripping of blood down his palms.   
But as time passed and the crescent scars left by his ragged nails began to fade, so did Jeremy’s will.  
If he thought, then he would want to escape. So the Squip didn’t allow him to think at all.  
The days blurred together in an endless blur of faded colors and muted noises as the world passed Jeremy by. But that was alright. If Jeremy couldn’t see, then he wouldn’t know what he was missing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make my day and kudos make the world go round.


	2. save me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4.14.19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dislike updating sporadically, so I made sure I finished this before posting.  
> I lost interest and then finished it up today! I can't remember writing most of this. :)  
> I've been experimenting with darker material, b/c I dislike that most of my work is superficial and composed mainly of banter. It's very fun to write but boring to read (at least for me), so when I reread my past stuff I want to make sure I'm still engaged.  
> Here's the finished product. It's a bit of a monster, both in size and content.

The Squip made Jeremy go through grueling workouts every morning. If he could have controlled his body, Jeremy would have laid awake at night, frightened out of his mind, his breath rasping in his lungs. As it was, he laid on his bed petrified, every tick of the clock on his wall echoing and resounding in his ears as the artificial stars glittered apathetically above him.

Every second was both an eternity and no time at all. Every minute was excruciating yet slipped by in a miniscule amount of time.

A bead of sweat managed to slip through the Squip’s barricade of total control and ran down Jeremy’s temple. It slowly beaded as it slipped towards the pillow, leaving a temporary rush of coolness on his skin.

He fought the urge to stay still on his bed, on his back, hands on the bed, palms up, breaths coming deep from within his chest. One’s sleeping position was optimal for their behavior, the Squip had told him. The amount of rest each night determined one’s personality and demeanor.

Jeremy had tried to call the Squip out on its bullshit but the thought slipped out of his head as soon as it permeated his consciousness. That was a unique feature of the Squip: it increased your consciousness and refined its intensity by dealing with the lesser, minor thoughts.

An (un)fortunate side effect was that the Squip could control the user’s thoughts. Jeremy had to carefully develop a system and eventually came up with a solution: double-thinking. Similar to the book _1984,_ he would simultaneously believe what the Squip told him and his own opinion.

For example, let’s say the Squip told him two plus two is three. Even though Jeremy logically knew that two plus two was four, when asked, he would instantly respond three, even though he knew it was four. It was very complicated. The double-thinking manual was eighty-something pages long, and Jeremy wished he had paid more attention in English class.

This method is what allowed the Squip to leave Jeremy alone so that let Jeremy could think freely. In the dead of night, when it was recharging itself-- or whatever Squips did when their users didn’t require them-- is when Jeremy allowed himself to really think.

But it was also important not to feel any emotion whatsoever; any change in his brain activity or elevation of his heart rate would bring the Squip running. Therefore, when Jeremy thought-- really _thought--_ silently and cautiously in the dead of the night, he did it as clinically as a doctor dissecting a corpse for an autopsy. It was neat, it was clean, and most importantly it was emotionless.

Jeremy lay there, carefully situated on the bed with its neat and crisp sheets and unwrinkled blanket, next to the plain and unadorned walls, across from the closet with all of his nerd memorabilia, his memories, everything that made Jeremy Heere _himself,_ carefully arranged in neat piles locked away.

What Jeremy definitely didn’t think about was _Him._ Even thinking His name would bring the Squip back, and Jeremy couldn’t afford that, now that he had these few precious moments of solitude.

See, what Jeremy naively didn’t expect-- when he was a dumbass and ate the Tic-Tac-- was the lack of free will that it brought. Or, rather, didn’t bring. Gone were the hang seshes, the slushies, the slouching. No more Him.

Now it was just Jeremy, a piece of technology, and an empty room stripped of memories.

He couldn't feel any emotion, but whether he didn’t allow himself to or genuinely couldn’t was open for debate. Time was a precious commodity, and therefore not something he could afford to lose.

Just breathe, Jeremy. Just breathe.

\------

It had started off as a good day.

_“Jeremy, you can’t just listen. You have to obey.”_

Rewind.

Jeremy awoke on October 22 just as he always did. The Squip acted as his mental alarm clock and his eyes automatically snapped open at precisely 5:45 AM. Both of them were in a good mood, considering that one of them was a parasitic piece of advanced technology and the other was a pathetic host.

When both of their eyes opened, Jeremy didn't feel the overwhelming fatigue that usually plagued him in the morning, the feeling of wanting to either roll over and go back to sleep or body-slam himself against the nearest wall.

No, this morning he felt awake and, dare he say, _chipper._ Today was the day that the Squip would let him see Mi-- Him. (Not hang out with Him, _see_ Him, because the Squip was generous sometimes and today was one of those special occasions.)

The truth was that even though Jeremy had an abundance of new friends that he was able to connect with on a physical and emotional level, they weren't Him. Try as it might to alter the majority of Jeremy’s perception, the Squip could not erase the years of friendship that occurred between the two.

The truth was... Jeremy missed Him. He missed him a lot; he missed his company, his jokes, the way he looked at Jeremy. It wasn't romantic or anything, no homo (although that was one point the Squip hadn't ground into him, apparently confidence was more important to exude than forced heteronormativity), but Jeremy liked being appreciated, loved knowing that he was an enormous and vital part of someone's life and having complete confidence that the feeling was reciprocated.

 _That’s indicative of several psychological traits,_ the Squip said. _Intriguing._

 _The Internet has an abundance of information,_ Jeremy thought to himself, _maybe too much._

 _Indeed,_ the Squip said, and his mouth curved up in a pale imitation of a smile.

And Jeremy forgot himself, where he was, who he was talking to. Changing his voice to an approximate estimation of a gay Chicago announcer of the 1950s, he said out loud, “This is the height of luxury!”

The Squip’s visual image glitched as it placed the voice in its database. _Was that John Mulaney?_

“I, um--” But the Squip could read his mind, so it was obvious.

_Have you been watching John Mulaney’s… specials, even though I specifically told you that he isn’t on the approved list of comedians to listen to?_

_Then who is?_ Jeremy thought automatically, and then mentally smashed his forehead into a wall. The Squip despised backtalk, and this was the one day that Jeremy couldn’t risk invoking his wrath because today he would get to see Him.

 _You know…_ the Squip said in a calculating tone, _maybe it isn’t such a good idea for you to see Michael._

Jeremy froze at the name, horrified, and the Squip continued, _By assessing your involuntary reactions, you are extremely excited for the event and have been for some time. That is interesting. I would have thought that separation from your constant exposure would have decreased your desire to see him._

Jeremy held perfectly still, not daring to breathe.

 _It seems I was wrong. I must make some new calculations._ It fizzled out in a flurry of blue pixels.

Jeremy, who found himself on his feet next to his bed without remembering standing up, withdrew his outstretched hand. Why it looked like it was reaching for something, he had no idea. He shoved both hands into his pajama pants in frustration, then whipped them back out and put them next to his sides like he’d been shocked.

His only act of rebellion was opening and closing his right fist once. It looked like he might not get to see Michael today. He crushed the overwhelming sense of loss that overtook him.

Jeremy did not fling himself onto the bed and weep. He blinked once, hard, to make sure that any moisture that had collected there rolled onto his cheeks and evaporated.

The pressure on him was immense. The weight settled on his shoulder, and it took all of his strength to walk over to the mirror and stare at his reflection, to make sure that he was still himself.

As his own face stared back at him, Jeremy realized something. As much as he wanted it to be him that he was looking at, as much as the figure in the mirror resembled him, it wasn’t. It was like looking at a funhouse reflection of himself: his back was straight and his shoulders were back, his brown curls were cut short and coiffed back.

Jeremy looked up and down his body, eyes scanning up and down the entire length. He wore nothing but sweatpants, the gray ones universally worn by douches. His upper body was toned now, the muscle definition bordering between casual jock and popular athlete. When he flexed, there was a noticeable bulge in his biceps.

Objectively, there was now no doubt that he was conventionally attractive. The narrow face previously covered in acne had been eliminated by the magical power of a healthy lifestyle. Freckles had emerged in their place, giving him a boyish air. The sharp features that Jeremy had hated so much were now purposefully defined, his eyes clear blue and back straight.

His reflection was unrecognizable from the nerd that he had been only a few months ago. He looked like the personification of everything he previously stood against.

On the plus side, he could breathe normally again. The panic over not being able to see Him had faded slightly, or at least been muted. He didn’t get the usual wave of revulsion when he looked in the mirror; his countenance was too unfamiliar for his brain to process that what was standing before him wasn’t someone else entirely.

The person that he appraised two feet away looked cool, looked _chill._ In this aspect, the Squip had fulfilled its purpose. But, in retrospect, the cost may have been too high.

Because the truth was that the person in the mirror wasn’t Jeremy, even though it was; which was frustrating because one reflection was his true nature and the other was what he had always aspired to be.

He was vain, yes, selfish, certainly, but he learned that what constituted coolness wasn’t just the look, although that was an easy identifier. No, coolness was a state of being. Being cool was confidence, being so comfortable in one’s own body that they could do virtually anything without social repercussion.

That confidence could be faked, which was what the Squip was for. Jeremy 1.0 had the same amount of confidence as a baked potato, except baked potatoes at least had the benefit of being tasty. Jeremy was decidedly not tasty, looks or personality-wise. Jeremy 1.0 wasn’t a ‘snack.’ Girls didn’t look at him and boys didn’t double-take at his overwhelming masculinity when he swaggered down the hallway.

Now they did, though, and some of them even joined his posse. It was a social comeback of the highest degree.

Jeremy was conflicted. Other people liked him now, and now, in a twist of irony, the only person who despised both versions of Jeremy Heere was Jeremy Heere.

Now he walked over to the bed and sat down, face crumpling and bring his hands to wipe furiously at his eyes. He missed his old life, doing what he wanted and have genuine conversations and figuring everything out for himself. His old life was hard, it was difficult, and sometimes it sucked ass, but that didn’t change the fact that Jeremy desperately wanted it back.

And that was selfish, and he was a horrible person because anyone else in the world would literally _kill_ for this opportunity, but what does one do when the technology with the purpose to improve your life did its job, and you were still just as miserable as before?

He didn’t earn this, this fucking picture-perfect life. He didn’t make those friends on this own; he charmed them with the Squip’s carefully crafted anecdotes. He didn’t deserve his muscles; the Squip took over his body and forced it past the limits when Jeremy collapsed out of exhaustion during a workout. He didn’t deserve life then, and he certainly didn’t now.

But if this didn’t make him happy, then what would? He had virtually everything he asked for: that plethora of friends, that social life, those perfect grades, that perfect fucking dream life. When would he finally be happy?

_So if you know or ever knew how to be happy_

_On a scale from one to two now, are you happy?_

His shoulders shook with suppressed sobs, and his breathing was fast and short. His head spun. He wanted his old life back. He wanted his new life. He wanted Him. He wanted popularity. He wanted happiness and peace and prosperity and success and health reciprocated love and laughter and universal love and the world and the sun and the moon and the stars and yet he didn’t want anything at all, he wanted his mother, no, he didn’t, he wanted his father, he wanted to go to sleep and never, ever wake up.

_You're everything you hated, are you happy?_

_Hey, look Ma, I made it, are you happy?_

Jeremy lay on the back, face down, tears staining the pillow and the sun shining through the shuttered windows and wondered why he was alive.

The Squip appeared, the last thing that Jeremy wanted, and caressed his forehead, fingers artificially warm against Jeremy’s forehead.

 _Just breathe, Jeremy,_ the Squip said. _Just breathe._

\------

Jeremy was sitting math class. The teacher was droning on about exponential growth and natural logarithms that he didn’t bother to listen to. He was always good at math, but the Squip stole any semblance of independent learning from him. It was the one that did the homework and took the tests. Jeremy just sat back, a spectator in his own body, and observed the Squip's handiwork with two glazed eyes and half a mind.

If he removed the Squip-- but why would he never need to, he was a pathetic loser and would always need assistance-- Jeremy thought hastily, tacking the thought on for discretion, what would happen to him with his unused learning skills? They were like a muscle and would wear out without any use. Would he be able to do things on his own in adulthood such as driving and making independent decisions?

In actuality, that was a more pressing question than he had deemed it in the past. The Squip was extremely useful for a multitude of things, but wouldn’t it effectively leave you crippled after it became obsolete?

If that was true, and the more Jeremy thought about it that he became more certain in his conclusion that he needed to devise some counter-plans; a safeguard, if you will.

Let’s see. He needed to make sure that the skills he acquired were completely integrated into his psyche. Try as he might deny it, popularity _was_ incredibly useful. It provided many new options that he simply didn’t have before, because now with friends to accompany he could participate in more things. (Of course he technically could before, but then he wouldn’t have been happy. He would’ve sat in the corner and awkwardly fiddled with his phone and desperately wished that he was virtually anywhere else.)

For example, all of the school events became much more enjoyable now that he had people to enjoy them with. Jeremy could now comfortably participate in bullshit like the volley tournament, or student government, or even the fucking Spanish Club without repercussions. Instead, now they were favorable towards him: his social life and his ‘friendships’ and his college application. It was a perfect life.

Jeremy hated every single fucking second of it.

But for now, he just had to suck it up, straighten his back and puff out his chest and flash his new patented bullshit.

The Squip noticed the deluge of curses and bitterness that emanated from Jeremy’s mind, and flashed into visibility, sitting with one leg carefully dangling off the desk and the left knee near his chest and foot on the desk, his left elbow balanced on said knee in a computer generated display of coolness.

The poor nerd whose desk it was seated upon stared ahead at the teacher, taking notes and paying attention like Jeremy was supposed to be doing, obliviously unaware that she was sticking his wrist into the Squip's lower chest every time she scribbled something down.

 _Can you move from there?_ Jeremy thought irritably, making a supreme effort to tone it down. _She didn’t do anything to you or me. Us._

The Squip leapt off the desk in a display of natural grace that Jeremy would never have been able to reciprocate before. _Of course._ Now out of her face, he cocked his head at her face, wearing the face that meant that he was busy calculating their life story. _This one is an excellent candidate for a Squip._

 _Why?_ Jeremy thought, looking at her as she tucked a curly strand of hair behind her ear. He vaguely knew her name and that was just about the only aspect that he was familiar with. She was from another life, and the Squip tried to keep Jeremy from thinking about that particular epoch.

 _You know,_ the Squip said, and flashed a bunch of images at him.

A toddler arriving with her blue backpack and a book, excited for a new day; a third grader sitting up in the tree drawing in a thick sketchbook; a frumpy sixth grader sitting alone at the cafeteria after she arrived from a new school; the girl getting the lunch tray knocked out of her hands and crying alone in the bathroom; a young women sitting outside in the middle of the night hugging her knees and wishing for someone, anyone, to alleviate her crippling loneliness--

 _I…_ Jeremy thought, heartbroken, _I don’t even know her name._

The girl, blissfully unaware that the Squip had effectively told her life story, scribbled in her notebook and pushed her glasses up her nose.

_But she knows yours._

_What?_ Jeremy, startled, looked closer at the Mystery Girl’s notes. Next to the calculus notes that she was dutifully copying down rested a blank sheet of paper. On it was a list creatively and subtle title: ‘The Name of This List is Secret (How to Be Popular shhh).’ Under it was a list of activities and behaviors that seemed eerily familiar.

That wasn’t the strangest part. The sheet also included a decently sketched portrait of Jeremy’s face. It was weird to think that anyone spent any amount of time on him for whatever reason. Before, he wasn’t anyone enough to deserve it. Now, though…

 _Does she,_ Jeremy thought hesitantly, _like me? Like like-like me?_

The Squip didn’t even have the decency to conceal his snort. _Of course not._

 _Oh,_ Jeremy thought dumbly, and he was surprised to feel a small pang in his chest because it seemed that now he wasn’t good enough either.

 _To her,_ the Squip continued, _you’re an epitome of a Cinderella story. You’re her one last hope, proof that dreams do in fact come true. It’s a little sad, really. She’s been observing your ascent to stardom for a very long time. Look, there are all your extracurriculars on the list. Very observant, good work of her part._ He walked over to her and stared at it. _Actually…_

Jeremy knew better than to interrupt its calculating. He waited silently, resisting the urge to pull at the hem of his shirt, then twitched as he remembered her name.

The Squip’s blue cast rippled slightly as it pixelated in and out. _It has been a while since Middleborough has had any_ valuable _addition to the network… This could be a useful opportunity._ Its tone became businesslike.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the period. All of the students packed up their notebooks and placed them into the bags and the teacher yawned and went back to his desk.

“Hey, Ma--” he started to say over the shuffling of papers, but she interrupted him.

 _“Jeremy?”_ she said incredulously and quickly slammed her notebook on top of the damning image of his face, while Jeremy felt supremely uncomfortable.

 _Tell her you zoned out in class and need to take a quick photograph of her notes on your phone. It’s inconspicuous and plausible since your image is still that of an airhead,_ the Squip briefed him as Jeremy packed up his papers and readied himself to leave. Jeremy did so as he waited at the girl’s desk for her to finish doing the same. They exited the doors together and stood outside.

The Squip took control of Jeremy’s body unceremoniously, saying _This is too important for you to screw up,_ and Jeremy inwardly bit his lip in anger.

Jeremy’s eyes flashed a bright blue, once, too quick for an unsuspecting human to notice. _“I saw your list.”_

The girl lowered her eyes sadly, muttering, “I should have known you didn’t really want my notes. They’re so good, though, highlighter is _so_ underrated.” Her head shot up, remembering where she was and who she was talking to. “What, what?”

 _“You want to be cool, correct?”_ Jeremy tilted his head carefully to the side. _“I have a way that’s guaranteed to work.”_

 _Well, not guaranteed, per se,_ Jeremy thought, _but it certainly is a viable option--_

The Squip shocked him, hard, and Jeremy didn’t even have the control of his faculties enough to react to it. _Shut up._

The nerd’s eyes were wide. “I knew it. I knew you couldn’t have, pardon my phrasing, rose to your current social status using your admittedly lacking skill set. Apologies, I tend to use advanced vocabulary when I’m on the brink of an intellectual breakthrough. Or when I’m nervous. This situation applies to both of them, I guess.”

Jeremy fought through the Squip’s control enough to tactfully say, “You apologize a lot.” It seemed important for him to say that, although he didn’t know why.

The Squip shocked him again, and tears managed to break through the facade. The Squip made Jeremy cough to hide him wiping away the offending tears.

“Sorry. I mean, uh… Sorry.” She wrung her hands, oblivious to Jeremy’s plight. “Wow, I’m really screwing up this social interaction, huh?”

 _She’s observant, this one,_ the Squip noted. Jeremy, still in incredible pain, no longer dared to respond.

 _“You are,”_ the Squip said, steepling his fingers in a gesture so unlike Jeremy’s normal gesticulations that the girl must have noticed something was off, _“but, luckily for you, the solution that I’m proposing is intended to solve problems exactly like those and more.”_

“Huh?” Her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth turned down. “Like a mentor of some sort?”

The Squip raised his eyebrows in surprise. _“Very close to the answer, actually.” This one will be an excellent addition. “It’s called a SQUIP. Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor.”_

“Neat-o,” said the girl, accepting the sudden sci-fi twist in her presumably boring life. “What exactly is it?”

 _“It’s a gray oblong pill,”_ Jeremy told her, his eyes imperceptibly blue as the Squip moved his lips for him. _“Nanotechnology CPU.”_

“So… drugs. Of course. What’s it do?”

 _“It helps you…”_ Jeremy’s lips trembled imperceptibly because he’d rather be anywhere than here, hating recruiting other hopeless causes to

The Cause. _“It helps you be more chill.”_

 _You’re doing so well._ The Squip rubbed his shoulder.

 _I don’t want to,_ Jeremy inwardly whispered, and inside he was screaming and crying but outside he was stoic and calm and confident, and the outside was the only thing that mattered.

 _“Meet me at my locker after school, and bring a can of Mountain Dew,”_ they said, one with an almost-expression of eagerness and the other wishing to be anyone other than who he was.

 _Just breathe, Jeremy,_ the Squip said, _just breathe._

\------

To say that Jeremy sulked for the rest of the week for a massive understatement. He hated the Squip taking control over his body. No, he _despised_ the Squip taking over his body, hated the feeling of helplessness. He was a human, not a goddamn marionette.

 _If anything, you’d be a puppet,_ the Squip said, _because you always have a stick up your ass._ It sighed. _If you dislike it so much, just tell me._

 _I tried to tell you, then you shocked me so hard I almost cried in front of a nerd!_ Jeremy cried. The Squip couldn’t argue with that, so it left his mind. They both thoroughly appreciated the half hour of separation.

He looked so sullen the entire day that Jake Dillinger came up to him and smacked him on the shoulder, backed by his posse of idiot jocks.

Jeremy stood next to the bleachers that overlooked the football field. He was poised in a careful imitation of disinterest, leaning against the stand with one leg crossed over the other. The Squip, silent until then, resurfaced in his mind.

Jeremy didn’t really care about Jake. What he found, in recent months, was that he really was sort of a loner. The insecure dorkiness from before had hidden it, but Jeremy was a personified column of salt. He liked being by himself so much that he attracted everyone to him, and in that case of irony the Squip took full advantage.

Jeremy now had the image of a Lone Ranger: aloof, cool, and most importantly chill. He (respectfully) went through girls like candy and flitted from person to person like an ice statue. He gave monosyllabic answers and the crowd went wild.

It was a beautiful day. The sun shone and the crisp autumn leaves whispered in the wind. A gentle breeze swept Jeremy’s hair over his face, hiding his eyes. _Perfect,_ he thought, closing them. _I just want to be asleep._

“Home slice!” Jake said and Jeremy made a show of sleepily opening his eyes. “You’ve been looking like someone stole your girl and then set fire to your house. What’s hanging, man?”

 _Interesting foreshadowing,_ the Squip thought to himself in the back of Jeremy’s mind, but Jeremy hated tolerated the CPU so he ignored it.

“Nothing much,” Jeremy said, fighting off Katy Perry’s perfectly relevant lyrics of _Do you ever feel like a plastic bag/drifting through the wind wanting to start again_ that the Squip blasted in his head, because the Squip was a petty bitch and chose this moment to grow a goddamn sense of humor.

 _If you search for wisdom in Katy Perry’s lyrics then kill yourself,_ Jeremy thought a Bo Burnham lyric back at it, because it was unfair that Jeremy had a perfect comeback and was unable to use it.

“That’s cool,” Jake said cheerfully, and Jeremy did his best to wrench himself out of his head, something that he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet, “I don’t believe you.”

Jeremy had lost track of the conversation some time ago. “Wait, what?”

“He says he doesn’t believe you,” Jake’s goon, Rich Goranski, said as he glowered behind Jake. Jeremy despised him, remembered the countless tortures that the bully inflicted on him over the years.

Jake grabbed Jeremy’s arm. “Bro. Broski. You’re blue; I understand that. Y'know what’ll help? A banger.”

Surely he didn’t mean what ‘a banger’ usually stood for because as far as he knew Jake was straight. “A banger?”

“Sure.” Jake clapped him on the back. “A party. Booze. Hot girls with a ‘z.’ All that swag shit. Listen, I’m having a Halloween party this Friday. I’m only inviting Middleborough’s elite, which means…” he paused, waiting for Jeremy to finish his sentence.

“... Me?” Jeremy said weakly. The Squip sent a small dosage of electricity down his back, and his spine straightened. “I mean, me.” He smiled, making sure to show his teeth.

“That’s right!” Jake chuckled, and his posse hooted behind him. “It starts at ten sharp, and if you misinterpret that and show up in the morning, then Rich will slap you.” He paused, waiting for Jeremy force a  chuckle. “I’m kidding. Rich’ll beat the shit out of you if you show up before 11:30!”

The Squip told Jeremy to hit Jake’s arm good-naturedly and walk away, and he did so.

 _What a fucking moron,_ Jeremy thought angrily.

Surprisingly, the Squip agreed with him. _I know. But sometimes you have to associate with people you’d rather not interact with to achieve your goals. And Jake currently assists with multiple of them._ Then, after a pause, _Are you still bitter about me recruiting that nerd?_

Jeremy paced across the empty football field, sneakers indenting the artificial turf. _No, I’m angry that you controlled my body without consulting me first. I understand that sometimes it’s necessary to do it, but I think I could have handled that situation on my own._

 _I apologize, Jeremy,_ the Squip said, _I did not take into account your… feelings in this regard. I’d appreciate it if you understood that sometimes control is necessary, however._

 _Point taken._ Something occurred to Jeremy. _When can I see Him?_

The Squip's whole demeanor changed. His back stiffened and he bristled like a cat.

 _Nevermind,_ Jeremy said, and seethed inside, even though he knew it would cost him later.

\-----

Jeremy had misbehaved earlier in the day, and now he was paying the price.

Oh, he had messed up, fucked up glorious, screwed up so bad that the Squip had gritted its teeth and said, _Bathroom. Make an excuse, now._

Shaking, Jeremy ran to comply, excusing himself from the cafeteria table where Brooke stared at him with doe eyes and Jake showed Chloe memes on his phone as she painted her nails, bored.

 _Every second you waste,_ the Squip said sharply, _I will up the voltage by twenty volts._

Jeremy didn’t know if that was high and didn’t wish to find out. He walked with purpose towards the lavatory, making sure not to run.

_Not that one, idiot. The upstairs bathroom. This one has people in it._

_Please don’t shock me,_ Jeremy thought weakly, and the Squip laughed at him.

_Then how will you ever learn?_

He couldn’t think of a response, and his tongue lay numb in his mouth as he entered the doorway. His shoes scuffed along the tiles.

_Lock yourself in the handicapped stall. I need space._

Jeremy was shaking uncontrollably as he fumbled with the lock. His hands trembled and his mouth was dry.

The Squip appeared in its physical form. _You pathetic excuse for a human. You can’t even follow simple directions._

It sent a shock down his back, and Jeremy twitched.

_You’re such an idiot. One simple request; that’s all I asked and you couldn’t even comply with that. What more can’t you do?_

Another jolt, painful this time. Jeremy stumbled, eyes watering, and crashed into the metal wall with a clang. His shoulder throbbed.

 _You should have never been born. You’re a pathetic excuse for a human being. Everything about you is so terrible._ It cocked its head _. Say it._

“E-everything about me is so terrible.”

Electricity scorched down his back, and Jeremy muffled a scream with his sleeve. He was on his knees now, prostrating before the Squip in a futile attempt to make it stop.

_You should be shot. You don’t deserve to live on this planet. Everything about you makes me want to die. Say it._

Jeremy tried to resist, he tried so hard. Tears ran from his face and he made no motion to wipe them away.

_Say it, Jeremy._

Please, make it stop. Anything. If there is a higher being, a deity, please, please, he’ll acquiescence, he’ll assent, he’ll accede--

“Everything about me makes me want to die.”

 _Good._ An even harder burst of agonizing electricity and Jeremy’s face hit the floor and blood burst out of his nose.

“Why are you making me say these things?” Jeremy whimpered, red mixing with the water on the tiles, soaking his jeans. The Squip responded with an electric shock. The electricity was different than those used for spinal stimulation; these were meant to hurt, to wound. This was meant to _torture--_ to simulate the excruciating feeling of the skin melting off your bones, scorching and destroying.

“That doesn’t make sense--” Jeremy started, but the Squip hit him with such a force of voltage that Jeremy unconsciously screamed, convulsing on the floor, before the Squip muted his voice.

The Squip shocked him again and again, and Jeremy’s silent screams blended together, eventually fading out and becoming raspy as his throat gave out.

The last thing Jeremy saw before he slipped into unconsciousness was the Squip standing beside him, looking down with a blank and clinical gaze. Calculating.

 _Just breathe, Jeremy,_ the Squip told him. _Just breathe._

\------

Other days were tolerable. Of course, Jeremy’s definition of tolerable was most likely very different than other people’s.

What made the day significantly better was the absence of the Squip. It was surprising to him, but that it is what it is. The notable lack of the Squip meant that Jeremy was exceeding standards, or just meeting them, and Jeremy was absolutely okay with being average in that regard.

He was walking near the football field again, crossing over the turf just to hear the whisper of it under his sneakers. The sun was shining, and it caressed his bare shoulders as Jeremy took off his jacket, leaving a thin undershirt that rippled in the breeze.

This was his favorite place in high school, it was solitary and quiet. No one was there to judge or criticize or bully; here, it was just Jeremy and the turf and the sky.

Jeremy wasn’t allowed to skip class since the Squip judged his appearances more important than the vibe that doing so gave him, but this was his free period. He technically wasn’t allowed to be up here, but the Squip helpfully deleted the footage of him exiting the building off the cameras, and for once he didn’t question the Squip’s motivation.

He climbed up the metal bleachers, hopping up each horizontal line of seats with a newly acquired grace. It was such a smooth transition of movement that it stole his breath away, and as he ran on them he lifted his arms into the air and whooped and in an exaltation of joy.

As he jumped from the rows to the top and back again, running around and springing into a perfect back handspring (just because he could!), he spotted a lone figure, previously unnoticed, sitting on the bottom of the bleachers, hidden in the far corner.

Jeremy, in the middle of a shameless handstand, squinted towards them in the upside-down world. The person wore red, and a wisp of smoke drifted downward from his right hand. That didn’t make sense, smoke went up, so he hastily turned himself over onto his feet, and in doing so recognized who the person was.

The Squip appeared next to him, which the last thing that Jeremy wanted.

 _Can I have this, just once?_ Jeremy thought. The Squip hesitated before responding.

_You’ve met your quota for today, and have been doing tolerably all week. I’ll allow it._

Surprisingly, Jeremy’s knees went weak. _Thankyouthankyouthankyou--_

“Jeremy?” Michael’s voice came to him distantly, echoing off the metal.

Jeremy found it difficult to find his voice. “M-Michael?” He ran over to where he was sitting, not even out of breath.

“That’s me.” Michael looked… Michael looked forlorn. He sat against the handrail at the edge and rested his head against it, staring into the distance. He held a half-smoked joint in between his pointer and middle fingers, tracing the air with half-hearted sweeps of his wrist.

“I, uh,” Jeremy stood next to him now, unconsciously rocking back and forth on his heels, because there was an air of awkwardness now that never existed before. “Hi.”

“What’s up?”

Before Jeremy looked up to respond, he noted the dark circles under Michael’s eyes, the slight stubble on his chin, the coffee stains on the hoodie. “The, uh, the sky. And the birds. And a birthday balloon.”

Michael joined Jeremy’s scrutinization of the heavens, both of them taking in the shining balloon emblazoned with a cheesy ‘Happy Anniversary!’ that peacefully continued its ascent to a better place.

“Some couple is going to miss that in a few minutes,” Jeremy said, trying to break the silence. The sad attempt at reconciliation sat in the void.

“Do you know what today is?” Michael said, voice heavy.

Jeremy wracked his brain and came up with nothing. “... No.”

“Today’s my birthday, Jeremy.”

What was there to say?

“Oh.”

Michael shrugged. “Exactly. What else is there to say?”

Jeremy stood silently as clouds covered the sun, casting Michael’s face in shadows. Michael reached inside his hoodie and took out a slip of paper. He held it up to the fading light so Jeremy could recognize it.

It was a Magic the Gathering Card.

“Do you remember this?” Michael said quietly, not expecting a response and not getting one. “When I was six and I had just moved to this district, I was the only new kid in first grade. I had zero people that I knew, and no one wanted to be my friend because, even then, everyone was unwilling to be associated with me.

“On my seventh birthday, I came in hoping against hope that someone would acknowledge this very special day in my life. I skipped into school with my Nintendo DS and my light up Pokemon sneakers, excited because I knew, I _knew,_ that today was going to be a good day, Evan Hansen, and here’s why.

“I entered the classroom, and everyone was sitting around the room doing their math warmups like they always did. No one looked up. And I don’t know what I expected, cannons or streamers or even balloons, but it wasn’t complete and total ignorance.

“Because this was a special day in my life. And no one even knew that it was so important for me. For them, it was just another day to get through.

“I learned something that day: no one cares.” Michael took a drag off his joint. “And they never will.”

Jeremy took a seat very tentatively next to him on the bleachers. “You’re leaving out the most important part of the story.”

Michael shrugged, smiling bitterly. “Does it matter? Even the one person I thought who gave the smallest fuck about me didn’t in the end.”

Jeremy continued the story for him. It just seemed like something he should do. “I was sitting in the classroom staring at the math worksheet when a boy flounced through the door. I remember looking at him, wondering why the hell he was so happy on a Tuesday morning. I’d never talked to him before, so I was surprised when he took a seat next to me, even though it might have been a coincidence.

“I leaned over and whispered to him, ‘Why are you so happy?’ and he said, ‘It’s my birthday!’ Then he looked around, and his face fell. He said, ‘But no one knows it.’

“And I felt so sad for this boy because his face fell and his lower lip trembled, so I said, ‘I’ll make you something.’” Jeremy chuckled. “I turned over my math worksheet and drew you a Magic the Gathering card with my pencil and a blue crayon that I had in my backpack. It was a terrible card. I tried so hard on it.”

Michael turned it over in his fingers, seeing the scribbled numbers on the other side. “The teacher was so mad when she saw you drawing on it and never turned it in.”

“It was the start of a beautiful friendship.”

They tilted their heads to look at the card, remembering.

Neither of them said anything for a significant amount of time until Michael broke the silence.

“Jer, you need to get rid of the Squip.”

Jeremy jerked to his feet as if he’d been shocked. “Why?”

“You haven’t been yourself since you got it.”

“Isn’t that the _point?”_

Michael shrugged helplessly. “No. The point was for it was to not make you unpopular anymore. It wasn’t supposed to change who you _are.”_

“You don’t understand,” Jeremy snapped. “This is still me. The Squip just helped me unlock my potential.”

Michael stood up, hands clenched at his sides, a muscle in his cheek jumping. “That’s what it told you, isn’t it? You don’t even sound like yourself anymore.”

Jeremy saw red. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you too.” Michael’s voice became deadly quiet. “The Squip’s been helping you do so many new and fancy things, but have you ever thought of what it’s doing to _you?”_

Flashes of blue, pain streaking through his bones, distant screaming, raw vocal cords and shaking hands--

 _Nopenopenope--_ “Optic nerve blocking, on!”

Michael’s angry yell of “What the fu--” fizzled out in nothingness, along with his image and Jeremy’s guilt.

The Squip appeared. _Just breathe, Jeremy._ Jeremy took a shaking breath and stalked away from it, from Michael, from everyone.

It started to rain, but it blended with the hot tears stinging his eyes so no one saw him shatter.

_Just breathe._

The Squip will build him back up again.

_Now, let’s get to work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make my day and kudos make the world go round.


	3. from myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My original art strikes again. 4.18.19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always get bummed that no one makes art for my fics (not that anyone is obligated to by any means... but it'd be nice), but then I realized: if you can't beat them... Join them. (Bo Burnham reference)  
> So I make my own. The end.  
> EDIT 7.13.19: I colored the art! (Or rather, an app did it for me; I think the result is pretty nifty nonetheless.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll clarify. This is when Jeremy stares at himself in the mirror and has his Mulan moment.  
> I could have put the background in complicated code, but I'm lazy so it's just "please save me" in binary.  
> I did spend some time on this, so feedback is welcome and appreciated :)
> 
> Comments make my day and kudos make the world go round.

**Author's Note:**

> _I can't remember who I am_   
>  _Everything's a blur_   
>  _Take me over_   
>  _I'll become what you like_   
>  _This is what you've wanted, right?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Sacrifice all I know_  
>  _I will teach myself to let go_  
>  _Copy that, Copycat._
> 
> I listened to ["Copycat"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGjA23kXsCU) most of the time I spent writing this. My tumblr is mermaidmayonnaise. Peace out.


End file.
